I cried while writing the last section though, which is nothing new, but you might want to grab a handful of tissues. Or a chocolate bar to make yourself feel better, it was REALLY hard to resist and I knew what was coming from the beginning.
Part II
i.
The jolting sensation as he regains consciousness makes Don startle. Ian tightens his grip just a little and murmurs quiet reassurance until he relaxes. (don't upset the wound you can't afford to lose any more blood)
A whisper asks whether they've been spotted and Ian shakes his head slightly before using his free hand to slide the handgun resting on his knee back into Don's grasp. He lets his arm fall from around the other man's chest, taking his hand from the wound and wiping the congealed blood (bleeding is mostly stopped now good sign) across his thigh to try and prevent leaving any evidence of their presence behind.
Sliding out from behind Don, he murmurs that it's probably nearing midnight and they need to get moving. The industrial area they seem to have stumbled upon seems deserted. (I think I can hear the car as well we need to keep running)
It takes them a few moments to gain their feet again, shaking out numb limbs and trying to get blood flowing again. The quiet rumble of a car engine becomes audible and Ian swallows thickly as he looks at Don.
They're both sickly pale and shivering and aching (it doesn't matter right now we're still free of them) but their hands firm around the guns regardless. Don covers his shoulder with his left hand and using the shadows, they begin to move along the side of the warehouse.
ii.
The bullet striking the asphalt barely a foot away is the first warning they get that they're being followed again. (they found us they're coming for us why didn't I hear them coming) They dive apart and Don's breathing hitches as the movement tears the temporary closure of the wound. His fingers clench tighter around the wound as he feels the blood start to seep against his palm again.
Ian skirts an overturned crate and twists, catching a glimpse of the metal of a barrel and a round shadow. (not Gravel we can outrun this one)
Don's good shoulder hits the wall of the next building they reach (god it hurts so bad) and he manages to manipulate his slide down the wall, sending a round in the direction of the shadow as Ian drops into a crouch and takes a shot that carves a shallow valley through curve of the protruding stomach.
The man goes down with a cry and Ian rises slowly. His gait is a little unsteady but Don can still see the stalk (doesn't matter what happens still a hunter even when we're the hunted) as he collects the gun and returns to the side of the building.
He tells Don that they can't wait because who knows how far behind Gravel is. Even nodding is painful and Don's vision blurs as Ian pulls him to his feet. (don't know how far I'll last) He whispers a quiet apology and the breathy reply that he has nothing to apologise for, not before, now, ever, somehow feels like an all-encompassing absolution.
iii.
They make it into a shadowy, narrow alley before Don's knees give out. (so sorry)
Ian can hardly breathe himself and in spite of themselves, they have to drag themselves towards a particularly dark area. (rest a little while just need to rest then you'll be okay) Hands slippery with blood and heart beating uncomfortably fast, Don's body wavers before landing heavily against Ian's side.
Panic surges through him as he tries to pull the smaller man towards him. The exposed skin is cool and a little damp to the touch (too cold too cold this is taking too long) and his own hands are struggling to stop shaking long enough to get a firm grip.
A few minutes of futile struggling later, Don responds and with deep, rattling breaths, leans closer as he reaches to cover the wound with his hand again. Ian sets the guns between his legs and places both of his over it too. As he feels the steady seeping of warm blood through Don's fingers against his own skin, he realises that they really don't have much time left.
He whispers quietly that they can rest a little while now and regroup because daylight can't be far away now and he just knows that someone will be there for them soon. Billy, Colby, David, Liz, Nikki.
Don breathes out softly and murmurs that he really would like to see them again because he really should tell them more often that they're the best team he's ever had.
The words taste like hope in his mouth as he says that they'll be coming soon.
(don't make a liar out of me someone please hurry please please please)
The taste of hope quickly becomes the taste of blood as his teeth open the side of his cheek again.
iv.
The alley is where Gravel finds them, half in and half out of reality.
Don's fingers flex and clench around the gun as his eyes struggle to focus. (last one this is the last one)
Ian twists his body to try and make them less visible (don't know if I can get up) and his muscles scream in protest.
A flicker of moonlight illuminates the trail of blood winding down the side of Gravel's face from his hairline and the sight makes a rush of hot adrenaline flood Don't blood and somehow it knocks the cobwebs and haze from his mind instantly.
There is no hesitation, no unease. His body responds instantly as he slides around Ian's body, and his legs don't even quiver as he rises. The bullet that tears into his shoulder, right above the already bleeding wound, sends his left side jerking backwards. (correct for your balance don't let anything affect your aim you keep your eyes on your target, you hear me)
The crack of the gun in Ian's hand makes Gravel startle and Don seizes the moment.
(never wanted to take a shot like I do right now)
The tall man crumples with a cluster of three shots around his heart.
Ian lunges to put himself between Don and the ground as the adrenaline fails and the gun clatters to the ground. A breathless litany (no no no no) is spilling from his lips even as blood spills from Don's mangled shoulder.
He has no idea where the strength comes from but he manages to haul them both to their feet even as his hands grasp for Don's and presses the tangle of fingers and slick skin to the gushing wound. (you've never given up on a thing in your life don't you dare start now)
Wet, laboured breathing hitches but the familiar voice slurs words that take Ian a moment to understand. Get us out of here, he repeats and then nods, tightening his grip. Can do, he asserts, and their legs begin to move underneath them as though independent from their battered bodies.
v.
There comes a point where not even will can keep them going, and it comes, hits them, on a cracked footpath with more blood covering their skin than under it. Don's voice is as substantial as a wisp of cloud when he tells Ian to stop because Billy and Colby are going to find them if they stay here. (Coop'll track us and Colby'll take care of the rest) His knees won't hold out any longer and they buckle almost as soon as he stops moving.
Ian doesn't hear him, not really, but they sink to the ground in tandem and his other arm wraps around Don's chest to add another hand to the blood-coated tangle of fingers. (you've been bleeding for miles)
The flow of blood is slowing but there is barely any blood left for his heart to pump out of his now violently shivering body, if he remembers first aid properly. Every breath was once agony but even that has stopped and it doesn't matter why as he lets himself settle into the curve of Ian's torso as the taller man curls around him. (you can have this shift Ian I gotta sleep) Breath ghosts across his ear as Ian whispers something he doesn't quite catch but the warmth makes his hair flutter a little.
His eyes close and he can't fight his body this time as Ian's arm tightens across his chest. (make sure Coop doesn't get caught okay) The shivering is easing off and he isn't sure, but his chest feels less tight.
There's a sensation of searing warmth on his neck and a gentle breath crosses the cool skin as he feels his body relax against Ian's chest. (gonna sleep for a while just make sure they clean me up before the others see please) The warmth slowly takes over every sense, the shivering dissipating until even the dark is warm. There is a cool hand around his, and then quiet.
Okay. I cried at work, I'll admit it. I apologise if the next story takes a while, life = insanity.